


The Garden

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, F/F, F/M, Foster Care, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is a handful. Already ejected from many different homes, the young teen is ready to believe the Washingtons will be just like any other foster home he's been too. He doesn't realize he'll be getting a great family and great friends. And maybe a certain gorgeous freckled boy will notice him...





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander Hamilton clutched his cane tightly, knuckles turning pale white from the effort. His twisted leg dragged as he walked, useless. He was walking next to his social worker, Kitty, who held onto his frayed purple backpack. He had owned it for a very long time, since his time on Nevis. Before the devastating hurricane, even before his mother’s tragic death. If he held the backpack close, he was reminded of times he had sat contentedly with his mother, doing homework and studying in their tiny home, backpack in his lap and pencil wielded in hand, his weapon of the mind. 

However, his backpack had traveled to America along with Alex. They were in Washington Dc, further from New York than Alex was comfortable with. Alex was placed in the foster system in America the second he arrived. Mostly bouncing from home to home in New York, he had been sent to Washington DC to live with a senator, his wife, and his adopted French son. 

Alex knew that this home would likely bring another set of angry, drunken voices or hands curled into fists, beating him down. His face lost a bit of color. 

He also knew that the Senator was using him for publicity. A sort of “look at me, I have a foster kid, I’m so great and kind!” But if it meant a warm bed and food, Alex was willing to put up with it for as long as he could handle. 

Although the early evening sun was hot on Alexander, he drew his navy blue sweater closer to himself as a shiver traveled his body. 

Methodically fiddling with the handle of his walking stick, he and Kitty trudged closer to the extravagant house standing before them. Kitty, to Alexander’s great humiliation, assisted him in climbing the stairs that she cleared with ease. She released him on the last step.

She impatiently checked the battered watch on her wrist as she stood at the top. “I want to give you a word of warning,” She advised, “Don’t get in fights. Or debate with them. You know how that always turns out…” Alex nodded. After being in multitudes of different foster homes Alex knew they didn’t want a ‘contrary’ child. It always resulted in abuse and an eventual discharge from their care. 

Although Kitty didn’t outright state it, Alex knew she was tired and wary of bringing Alex to all of his new homes. He never seemed to have any luck sticking to one family. He knew Kitty’s unspoken rules: Keep your head down, don’t talk out of line, and on and on, and perhaps they might like him.

Alex was determined, no matter how dreadful this family was, to make it last. At Least until he was 18.

Kitty sidled up to the door and pressed the small, round, glowing doorbell. The gears in Alex’s head were turning frantically as Kitty shot him a patronizing look. He couldn’t stop conjuring up imagined scenarios of what the Washingtons could be like. And the ‘what ifs’ were agony.

What would they say when they realized Alex tended to lose himself in his work? Ignoring everything but the papers in front of him. What about when the problem with his leg became to hard to handle for the family? What if-

“Alex, relax your grip,” Kitty jerked her chin in the general direction on his hand. Loosening his hold on his walking stick, Alex gave a swift nod. 

Alex’s information on his new ‘family’ was limited. He knew Senator George from conversations he had eavesdropped on, but he couldn’t glean any information on his personal life until recently. He was informed they had a son, adopted, who was French and spoke the language fluently. His name was Lafayette. George was married to Martha, who was just as into politics as her husband.

Alex knew he had to please Lafayette, or at least give him no reason to run to Mr. and Mrs. Washington with complaints. The moment Lafayette disliked him, he was no longer part of the family. Of course, George and Martha would trust their son over the loud mouthed, hot-tempered immigrant.

The large double doors swung open to reveal a tall man standing in the door frame. 

“Mr. Washington,” Kitty greeted. She handed Alex his backpack and nudged him forwards. “This is Alex!” The man- George- swung his hand out to greet the trembling teen.

“Pleasure to meet you, Alexander.” He warmly welcomed, smiling. He moved out of the way and gestured for the two to enter.

“And you, sir,” Alex responded, limping into the house, overwhelmed by the expensiveness of the interior. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stay,” Kitty waved goodbye to Alexander. “Contact me if you need anything.” 

Alex firmly nodded, increasingly more determined to not throw away his shot at a stable home.

“Welcome home Alex! Well-” George began before someone came racing down the stairs and knocked into him. 

“Où est-il?” (Where is he?) A voice shouted. Stumbling away from Washington was a boy that must have been around the same age as Alex. His curly hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail. His face was flushed a rosy red. 

“Oh, Alex, this is-” George tried again.

“LAFAYETTE, A votre service, mon ami!” (At your service my friend) He pushed past George and to Alex. Lafayette grabbed Alex’s bag and set it down. He clutched the teen’s newly free hand and shook it vigorously. 

“Ravi de vous rencontrer, Lafayette.” (It’s nice to meet you, Lafayette.) Alex responded, trying his best to keep his breathing under control. The other teen was a bit frightening with his manic behavior. 

“Vous parlez le français couramment?!” (you speak French fluently?!) Lafayette squealed in delight, eyes shining like stars as Alex gave a few firm nods. As the energetic French boy bounced around the room, speaking in rapid fire French. Alex jealously admired his ability to move around so quickly. “Mon ami! Call me Laf!”

George placed his hand on the flamboyant French boy’s shoulder. “Calm down, Laf.” He glanced and Alex, who was curling in on himself and worrying his lip like it was a chew toy. “You don’t want to overwhelm the poor boy.” 

“But I can, how you say, see the fire of passion in his eyes. He is hiding it!” Laf declared, slinging his arm around Alex’s shoulders. Hew flinched, but Laf didn’t notice. “It burns as bright as yours, George.”

Alex cast a sideways look at his new foster brother. After living with them for so long he still called him George? At Least Alex wasn’t expected to call him “dad” or something without even knowing him. 

“Martha isn’t home right now,” George addressed Alex. “But I’m sure she’ll be back by dinner, work must be running late for her.”

Alex adjusted his grip on his backpack, arm muscles growing tired from the constant weight. 

“MON PETIT LION!” Lafayette cried, swooping in and grabbing his back. “Plus de bagages que vous voudriez que je porte? (Any more luggage you would like me to carry?).

“Non, c'est tout ce que j'ai. Je vous remercie.” (No, this is all I have. Thank you.) Alex let his gaze slide to his feet, a light embarrassment causing his cheeks to flush. He was suddenly aware of how out of place he was in this large, expensive house.  
A short greasy haired immigrant from a very poor, very forgotten island and his raggedy backpack. No one else could say they stood out as much as Alexander realized he did at that moment. 

Noticing his discomfort, Lafayette excitedly asked George if he could take Alex on a tour of Mount Vernon. George nodded slowly and warned Laf not to talk the boy's ear off, but Lafayette was already leading Alex up the stairs. Alex shot back what he thought was an apologetic smile, but it must have come out as more of an amused grin because George chuckled. 

Lafayette waited at the top of the stairs for Alexander to hobble his way upstairs. Absentmindedly, Laf tapped his foot, and Alex sped up, interpreting it as a sign of impatience.

“That, there, is George and Martha’s room,” Lafayette said, pointing to a door next to a picture of a tiny Laf blowing bubbles next to a much younger George and a woman Alex assumed was Martha. 

Alex looked up at it. “You were so small.” He blurted out, immediately regretting his rash words. Expecting a huffy French asshole, Alex got a snorting laugh from the boy.

“You’re small now.” He shot back, moving forward. Alex lingered at the picture. It was nice to see what his childhood could have been, full of playing and bubble blowing with his beloved family. 

“Mine and yours are across from each other,” Laf chattered as they reached the end of the hallway. Golden light filtered through a clear window. Lafayette’s door was covered in French flags.

Alex opened the one across from it and his mouth fell open. He gaped at the large room. He probably could have fit his old house in Nevis inside of this one bedroom. A navy comforter that almost matched the color of his sweater. A desk sat by a window in the corner of the room that overlooked a garden, almost barren. 

There were two doors inside of his room. One had a walking in closet, which Alex had never seen before. Lafayette laughed at Alexander’s wonder, probably never have had to spent a night not inside his comfy mansion.  
The other door led to a personal bathroom, which delighted Alex to no end. It amazed him that people would just waste money on such luxuries as this. It was fully stocked with sweet smelling soft soaps and shampoos. 

As Alex wandered back into the bedroom he noticed Lafayette had hung his backpack on the chair. Panic surged through him at the thought of this strange boy touching his objects. 

“Alors qu'est ce que tu fais pour t'amuser?” (So what do you do for fun?) Laf said, lounging on the bed. 

“I like to write and read,” Alexander said defensively, daring Laf to make fun of him.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He said simply. Alex couldn’t get a read on that statement. “Oh!” He exclaimed as his phone let out a barrage of buzzes. “It always does this!” He complained, opening them. Softly he laughed under his breath as his scrolled through them. “Oh! Mon petit lion! How would you like to go out shopping with my friends and I tomorrow morning?”

“I’m not small,” Alex grumbled, slowly lowering himself onto the bed. “Sure,”

“Great! I’m sure they’ll all love you!” Laf got another text alert. “Ah, Martha has arrived with dinner. She is… ‘eager to meet you’ apparently.” With that, the two rose and set off to the dining room.


	2. Martha and Rachel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex meets Martha and recollects his birth mother, Rachel.

When they arrived downstairs they were greeted by Martha Washington, who cooed over Alex, fussing about how thin he was.

“Well, I couldn’t cook today, sorry boys,” Martha added at Lafayette’s groan. “I was working late. However, I did pick up some pizza.” Lafayette draped himself over Martha’s shoulders.

“Please tell me you got extra cheese!” Lafayette drawled into Martha’s ear. She swatted his hand.

“Shut up.” She smiled at Alex. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I don’t know what you like on your pizza.” 

“It’s okay, ma’am. I’ve never really had pizza before.” Alex shot a dazzling smile at her, behind which hid his anxiety. 

“Never had- What?! Martha! Get this boy some pizza immediately!” Lafayette looked at Alex in shock. Laf skipped into the dining room and pulled out a chair for Alexander.

“I can do it myself, thanks.” He muttered under his breath, plopping down into the chair. Martha sat across from him, George next to her. Lafayette dropped into the chair next to Alexander, scooching it closer so the two armrests met. 

George, Martha, and Lafayette chattered along as they ate, Alex, however, staying silent. It wasn’t like he was be excluded, he told himself. He could join in anytime he felt like it. Alexander was still on edge with the new family. 

Luckily talk didn’t turn to anything Alex didn’t want to speak about. Laf talked about his best friends, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and the Schuyler sisters.

Martha and George each put in their two cents about his friends, usually describing them as ‘sweet’ or ‘violent,’ in the case of Peggy.

“She’s not a bad kid,” George had stammered when Lafayette raised an eyebrow at him. “She’s just has an intense personality,” He settled on. Laf clicked his tongue.

“Tsk tsk, you shouldn’t talk about my friends that way.”

Dinner passed without incident, although Alex didn’t eat enough, according to Martha. They each dismissed themselves to go to bed. Alex and Laf said goodnight to each other before entering their rooms.

Alexander stood in the middle of his room, dimly lit by the moonlight. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his notebook. He had written in it with cramped, small letters, seeing as he didn’t know when he would get a new one. 

The cover was pockmarked with valleys and dents from things scraping against it. Alexander often liked to compare it’s damaged outside and wordy inside to himself.

He knew he was damaged, not only do to his twisted leg, but emotionally. 

Alexander felt a pang in his heart. He missed his mom. She was sweet. Nice. Rachel would do anything for her son. His abusive dad had left when Alex was only 12, leaving him in poverty with his mother.

Unable to read, Rachel valued education, thinking that if her son was educated, he could move out of the small island they called home. She snuck him books and worked hard for money so she could send him to school.

Then she became sick, and despite her best efforts, Alex became sick as well. For long days and nights they clutched each other, their small home filled with the scent of sick. They didn’t have enough money to spend on medicine, but somehow, Rachel got enough for one of them.

She gave them to Alex and pretended she took them too. She died whisper words of adoration in Alex’s ear. He never forgot the feel of his mother’s soft form become rigid and cold under his touch. 

Alex shook himself out of his thoughts when he felt cold tears spilling over onto his cheeks. Alex crawled into bed, silently sobbing. He whispered a short phrase to his mother, who he was sure was in heaven.

I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a bit late and short, I tried to finish it last weekend but I went somewhere all weekend. THEN I didn't have the energy to write and I just wanted to do nothing forever. I just pushed this out so that you won't forget me. I am really really sorry.


	3. UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR WHY THIS IS GOING ON HIATUS!

Okay, this is long overdue. An apology. One, for not updating for what, three weeks? Number Two, for what I’m about to tell you. This is going on hiatus. The dreaded word. And after only two chapters? Shame. 

Honestly, I just lost my passion (at the moment) for writing multi-chaptered fics. When I get my muse back, look out world! Until then… Hiatus.

I have an excuse or two for you guys.

A) Like I said, I lost my inspiration.  
B)I’ve been just really… argh feeling lately.  
C)Totally forget that I hadn’t updated, I only remembered because of a dream I had.  
D)I’ve been pretty busy lately, trying to balance school, my emotions, family life, and my friends (who are super awesome).  
E) Okay, the weakest point: I suddenly got really obsessed with Batman and Teen Titans (again). So I’ve been wasting a lot of time on that.

 

100% sorry. Not sure when I’ll pick this back up again, maybe when I’m feeling better. To distract you from my failure, I’m going to rewrite this in French. Probably it will be really off. You know why? GOOGLE TRANSLATE!

 

Ok, c'est long. Des excuses. Un, pour ne pas mettre à jour pour quoi, trois semaines? Deux, pour ce que je vais vous dire. Cela se passe en hiatus. Le mot redouté. Et après seulement deux chapitres? La honte.

Honnêtement, je viens de perdre ma passion (pour le moment) pour l'écriture de fics multi chaptered. Quand je récupérerai ma muse, regarde le monde! Jusque-là ... Hiatus.

J'ai une excuse ou deux pour vous les gars.

Comme je l'ai dit, j'ai perdu mon inspiration.  
J'ai été vraiment ... argh sentiment dernièrement.  
Totalement oublier que je n'avais pas mis à jour, je me souvenais seulement à cause d'un rêve que j'avais.  
J'ai été très occupé ces derniers temps, en essayant d'équilibrer l'école, mes émotions, la vie de famille, et mes amis (qui sont super génial).  
Okay, le point le plus faible: j'ai soudainement obtenu vraiment obsédé par Batman et Teen Titans (encore). J'ai donc perdu beaucoup de temps à ce sujet.

 

100% désolé. Je ne sais pas quand je vais ramasser ce dos à nouveau, peut-être quand je me sens mieux. Pour vous distraire de mon échec, je vais réécrire ceci en français. Probablement, il sera vraiment hors tension. Tu sais pourquoi? GOOGLE TRADUCTION!

 

ONE MORE THING. I just found out that Abraham Lincoln was supposedly bisexual. Totally off topic but I LOVE THIS. 

 

Thanks for your support (I think. Please don’t leave me.)!

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't mind leaving comments if you like it, and constructive criticism! And if I don't update in two weeks, come shout at me.


End file.
